


Insane Tendencies

by Kaelixi



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Amnesia, Delusions, Gen, Hallucinations, Mental Institution, PTSD, Possibly Triggering Situations, Psychological Trauma, Schizophrenia, Self Harm, Self-Harm, more to be added - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-31
Updated: 2013-08-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 11:17:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/621529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaelixi/pseuds/Kaelixi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Dave Strider and you are not insane.<br/>You're <i>not</i>.</p><p>((I didn't want to do it, but this fic is on HIATUS until further notice, if you haven't already guessed. I'm going to be editing the current chapters, as I'm no longer happy with them.))</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Strange Surroundings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((This chapter is under construction as of 8/31/2013))

Panic unfolds in the control room of the meteor as the remaining players scuttle about the room, preparing for the dream bubble that was fast approaching. Never before had they encountered one of such a vast expanse, the entirety of it blocking out any of their view. 

Sollux was stationed on the surface of the meteor, assigned to announce when the arrival of another bubble was imminent, giving everyone else ample time to prepare themselves for whatever horror lie beyond the shimmering, opaque surface of the bubble. This time, however, the bubbles seemed to appear out of nowhere, approaching the meteor at a speed which gave them close to no time to prepare. 

Karkat and Terezi had been arguing about some issue, likely of hardly any significance to the game, or of anyone in the room but them. Terezi sneers at Karkat, starting a reply, only to be cut off by another round of Karkat’s atrocious excuse for help. You can’t be bothered to actually listen to them, it’s hardly likely it concerned you. 

They had been in the middle of another bout of complaining to each other when Sollux burst into the room, breathing heavily, a sheen of sweat covering his face as he braced himself against the wall, holding his side as he heaved to try to get some air. Karkat was quick to abandon his petty squabble to go to his aid, helping him to retain his balance.

“Christ, Captor, what the fuck happened to you?” There weren’t many outside forces on or inside the meteor that could harm any of them, more than tripping over a loose article of clothing, or stubbing their toes on a badly placed piece of furniture would, so it was quite a big deal to see one of their own in such a distressed state.  
Sollux’s visionless eyes turned in karkat’s direction, and he takes a deep breath before speaking, the breathy hiss of the S’s in his speech almost a disappointment when you were expecting the lisp from back before he had all of his damn teeth knocked out. “The stars are going out.”

Karkat’s stare of disbelief was only matched by the scattered ‘what’s and annoyed scoffs of the others in the room. “That’s impossible, starts don’t just suddenly decide that they’ve had enough of shining, and just ‘go out’.” 

Sollux rolls his eyes, a brief motion only visible if you were close enough to catch the shifting in the black globes. “I fucking know that, do you think I believed it myself? The mayor told me, I honestly have no clue why you assholes stuck me up there when I can’t even see the stars myself.” In hindsight, it wasn’t a very good idea. Not your fault, you could blame Terezi for that mindfuckingly stupid decision. 

You ignore their banter and turn back towards everyone else, measuring their reactions to the situation at hand. You honestly didn’t believe the word the troll said, this was obviously just another ply for him to lord over the lot of you when he thinks you actually believed him. Karkat follows him up to the surface anyway, to see what was happening for himself. There is one blissful minute of silence before Karkat steps back into the room, a gaunt look on his face as he swallowed, his voice unbelieveably quiet as he relays the news.

“Fasten your damn seatbelts, we’re not getting away from this one.”

**((Everything below this line has not been edited; Will be edited Later on in the day.))  
\---------------**

You open your eyes, and the room is dark. It’s cold where you are, clammy. You reach up to rub your eyes, but strangely, your arms are immobile. You sit up, and feel that your arms are fastened, crossed in front of you and held together by some sort of cloth.

You’re sitting somewhere; the ground is push, like couch cushions. What kind of a memory is this? You can’t see anything, it’s much too cold, and your arms are tied around yourself, like a fucking self-hug.

Wait a second…

Where the hell are your god-pajamas? You know you were wearing them before the bubble, and the other bubbles you’ve entered hadn’t changed your apparel, so what was so different about this one?

The lights come on rapidly, a loud buzzing filling your ears. You close your eyes against the painful lightness of the room.

Where the hell are you? And where are your shades? Your best bro gave you those shades, and you just up and lose them? Some sorry fucker you are.

Why is it so white in the place? It can’t be the Land of Frost and Frogs, it’s not cold enough, and it’s impossible for it to be the Land of Little Cubes and Tea, this surface is definitely not sugar, or cats.

What the hell is that sound? Your head is buzzing from the shrieking pulse of it, and you can’t fathom the reason you’re asking yourself all these questions. You’re usually so level-headed, the cool-kid vibe going strong.

You open your eyes, ignoring the pain of the blaring white and let your eyes adjust.

Seriously, where are your shades?

You look down and see what’s restraining you.

What the fuck is happening.

There’s no way this is your memory, and you’re pretty sure it’s not Rose’s either. Probably not any of the trolls, you haven’t heard any mention of this before, and Karkat talks a LOT.

You struggle, but decide it’s futile, and you just sit there against the wall. You attempt to calmly assess your situation.

Your hair is the first thing you notice; it’s oily and hangs down in clumps in front of your face. Shit, didn’t you have Rose cut it, like, last week?

The second thing you notice are your shoes. These aren’t your awesome kicks, the ones bro got you for your birthday before this whole Sburb mess started, these are horrible gray loafers, and they are rank.

Then again, apparently so is everything else about this situation.

You notice that not only is the floor made of plush white foam, but so is the rest of the room. Every square inch of it. Even the fucking ceiling.

Seriously. Who the fuck pads a ceiling.

You notice that one panel of the wall-padding is slightly separate from the rest, like a door. There’s a small slot in the top, like a window. Maybe if you can jam your sword in there and use it like a crowbar…

Fuck. Where the hell is your sword?

You make a groan of frustration, hanging your head in acceptance. There’s no way you’re going to get out of this situation, you might as well just wait this bubble out…

No, fuck that. Dave Strider is not a quitter. Dave Strider gets shit done.

You slowly stand, all too painfully aware of the swirling dizziness that engulfs your tired mind, like you haven’t stood up in ages. You shuffle over to the winder, your legs nearly giving out, they felt so weak. When was the last time you had walked? In this memory at least?

Whoever’s memory this is, they’re going to need some serious Rose-Counseling after this is over.

You hear a sharp screeching noise, like rusty wheels scooting over a tile floor. That is, of course, exactly what they turn out to be.

A woman wearing hospital scrubs is pushing a metal cart down a hallway outside of your room, laden with food.

You become painfully aware of the hollowness in your stomach, the dryness of your cheeks. You need some of that food, no matter how unappetizing it may look.

You bonk your head against the glass, generating a dull thud. It must be three or four inches think, at least. Geez.

It’s enough to gain the woman’s attention, at least. When she looks at you, her eyes widen in surprise, and she freezes mid-step. Her expression is one of confusion, even awe.

She keeps the cart where it has stopped, turns around, and rushes down the hallway as fast as her stubby little legs can take her.

You try calling after her, but it’s no use. She can’t hear your voice through the glass at this distance, and she’s getting farther away every second. You bang your forehead against the glass once more, groaning in contempt.

Here you are, in a padded fucking room, wearing a straightjacket, and you’re still fucking hungry.


	2. Confusion and Food

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wellllll this is more of a filler i guess  
> again nothing shippy yet  
> IM SORRY FOR SHORT PARAGRAPHS

You’re sitting against the wall furthest away from the hole in the door. Your stomach is terrifyingly hollow, your throat and mouth dry.

Where the fuck is the lady with the food?

What the hell kind of dream bubble was this? Here you are, bound against your will, unable to scratch that fucking itch on your nose. You eyes hurt from the bombardment of light, and your mind won't let you sleep.

Damn. If only you werent too cool to be seen rubbing your nose against that wall. Maybe that would get the itch away.

Your legs ache, and you can see why. You obviously hadn't been standing for long, but the thin, winding muscles on your legs couldn't take it. What the fuck.

Maybe this prison is just an illusion brought on by Jack? No, you’re pretty sure he didn’t have those kinds of mind powers.

Not that you’re worried or anything.

This dream bubble should be ending soon. How long have you been locked up in here? Months? No, it’s probably only been a few hours.

Fuck.

You stand again, shuffling awkwardly to your feet, wobbling unsteadily as you’re unable to use your arms for balance or leverage.

Step by awkward fucking step, you make your way back over to the door. The lights were still on, but the cart was gone as well. You must’ve missed them when they passed back through.

Damnit. You sink to the ground, head lowered, staring at the pristine white surface, feeling hot tears dripping down your cheeks, watching them splash onto the surface. You vision blurred. No, no, this isn’t happening. You don’t lose your cool this easily. You are Dave fucking Strider.

You let out another sob as your vision slowly clears. Fuck this. You stand, the jacket still cinched tightly across your torso, and bang the window in the padded wall with your forehead, eliciting a sharp noise that echoes throughout the room. There’s no way the nurse didn’t hear that.

The lights go out, and you’re plunged into darkness. A relief, considering you’re so used to the shades that are irrevocably attached to your face. God, you wish you had them now. They’d help you remember what you’re starting to forget.

You raise your head sharply. What happened to John? And Rose, and Jade, and the other fucking trolls? There’s no way they’d all just disintegrated into the bubble, and they sure as hell aren’t in the room with you.

You sink back to the ground, the darkness keeping the room from your view, leaving you alone with your thoughts. 

So. You’re locked inside a padded, white room, wearing a straightjacket, your hair and fingernails much too long. What the hell happened inside this memory?

Your thoughts whirl; in your head, your eyes still sore from the onslaught of light brought on before. There was no way you were trapped in here.

No fucking way.

If you stayed in here much longer, you’d probably actually go insane.

You hear the sharp crack of the wheels along the hallway outside of your cell again, a sure sign that the lady was back with food.

She walked right past your cell.

You let out a shuddering breath, you throat constricting as it threatened to let out another sob, but you held it in. Standing up once again, much to the displeasure of your weak calves, you made your way over to the door. Looking through it, you saw that the lights were still on in the hallway, and you could clearly see the nurse opening to door to the cell in front of you, taking with her a small plate of food.

Your mouth watered at the sight.

You wait for her to leave the cell and and grab her cart again, and you hit your forehead against the glass once more.

You recoil. DAMMIT. You have to stop DOING that. You head rings from the impact, but you got the desired effect.

The nurses eyes open wide once again, and you smile slightly. This lady was easy to rattle.

“Excuse me!” you shout, and her eyes go even wider. Any winder and they’re going to fucking roll out of her goddamned head. “I’m really fucking hungry. Do you think you can give me some of that?” You nod towards the cart, and she pulls out a walkie talkie. 

You raise your eyebrow. Since when did nurses carry walkie talkies?

She speaks into it, all the while fidgeting with her fingers, pushing the cart around on the floor like a fucking wind-up toy. 

A few minutes tick by, each one feeling like eternity, when a group of men walk around the corner of the hallway. 5 of them are in scrubs, but one of them is wearing a snapback and shades.

Beautiful, beautiful pointed shades.

He sees you, obviously making eye contact through the shades, and he freezes. His hands go to his mouth, and he pulls the shades away from his eyes.  
They’re bloodshot and red-rimmed, bags piled deeply under his eyes, and they’re more watery and soft than you're used to, but there’s no denying it.

Your Bro is alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AGAIN IM SORRY MOST OF THE PARAGRAPHS ARE REALLY SHORTTT


End file.
